Friday, February 11

2:10 pm
Hotel

Sitting in my suite, waiting for the van, wishing with all my might I wasn't here.

It's like this at the beginning of every tour leg.  I hate the first week, then I get used to it and resign myself to the fact that this is the necessary evil of my chosen career.

It's not that I hate my job, or I hate performing, or I hate the crowds... quite the contrary.  I love to be up on that stage and look out across that sea of smiling, dancing, arm-waving people, eight to eighty, all singing my songs.  It makes me feel great to know I'm the ringmaster of the Greatest Show On Earth, at least for that night.  I love that they love me -- even those who don't.

I am the Great and Powerful Oz, ha ha.

I just hate being away from my family.  I hate the endless procession of cars and vans and planes and hotel lobbies and gyms and bars and suites and venues and press rooms and changing rooms.  The only piece of home I have is my quick-change, which technically ain't even home.  It's part of the set.  But it's where I have my few little pieces of home that follow me everywhere.

Drawings from my kids.  Notes from important people in my life.  My picture of Frank.  And today I get to add something new to my little cave.

This morning Cate gave me a special goodbye present.  She woke me up early for a little quickie -- which was in and of itself an excellent present -- and told me she slipped something special into my suitcase.  I figured it was lingerie or a scarf or something with her perfume on it, like she usually sends with me.  She did that, but added something extra-special this time.

She had one of the boudoir photos she did for me framed up to hang in my quick-change.  Part of her Christmas present to me was to let me pick out one to frame and hang in our apartment.  Well, they were all so gorgeous I had a helluva time doing that.  I ended up with the one of her and my Tak -- it's a stunning photo, all shadowy and sensual.  And now it's hanging in my walk-in closet, where I can look at it every morning when I get dressed.  Out of sight of curious little eyes, ha ha.  Don't need Jakey and Romey checking out their StepMama's nipples.

But there were a couple others I really love.  Cate noticed, and she had one printed up kinda medium-sized,  matted and framed.  She even "autographed" it for me, ha ha.  It's the one of her lying naked on our bed in the rumpled sheets, wrapped around my red Duesenberg.  Fuck, it's sexy.  She's wearing these black fuck-me heels, she's got these smoky, seductive eyes, her lips are all full and pouty, her hair is all shiny and tangled, and the only thing covering her is the body of my guitar.  She has the neck kinda angled in between her breasts with the headstock resting on her shoulder, beside her tat.  It's hot as hell.  Looks like a centerfold shot.

In her note she told me to hang the pic beside Frank and see if he blushes, ha ha.  Sorry, Baby -- hate to tell ya but it would take a whole fucking lot more than that to make Sinatra blush.

And I know every guy on the crew is gonna sneak in there to ogle my wife.  Fine by me, heh heh.  They'll wander away muttering "Lucky Bastard."

It's tucked in my bag right now, sitting here by my foot, ready to make the trip to the venue.  Can't wait to hang it up.  Will be nice to focus on my Muse when I'm trying to get my head right for the show tonight.  Love you, Baby.  Glad you're coming along for the ride.

I've chosen to forget about the Penn State show.  Nothing I can do about it now -- just have to put it behind me and go out and kick ass tonight.  It's not like I've never had a bad night before, it just pisses me off when I do.  The tour starts tonight, as far as I'm concerned.  And we're not fucking around.

Bring it on.